


Armistice

by afterwit



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterwit/pseuds/afterwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thassarian and Koltira.  Set after Wrath, but before Cata.  Kind of a "what if" if they'd seen each other in that span of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armistice

He knew he shouldn’t be here, but he looked down as his skeletal gryphon made a lazy circle around Tirisfal. It was strange to think that this place may no longer be “home”- that the land he grew up on no longer belonged to his family. The Forsaken were here now, but he couldn’t argue that they has as much right to the land as he did. If he cared to think about it, he probably knew a fair deal of them, though not as well-preserved as he was.

Living in the space between his freedom and the death of Arthas Menethil was simple- he did what he could to aid in assuring that his former prince met his death. That was simple- it was the fight. War, fighting, these were things he knew. What he didn’t know was how to live without that. He had commanded forces in small skirmishes, but his visits to Stormwind were few and infrequent- he didn’t care to remind his sister of what he was now. He had helped to save her life, and in that, had helped atone for what he had done in Lordaeron. Rather to think that he was simply dead than to visit her often and remind her of him. That he was undead. That he had served the Lich King. That he had burned their city, killed the people they knew, murdered their mother. He saw her from time to time, but it was enough to know that she was well, that she was safe.

The gryphon let out a soft cry, and he pulled on the reins, turning it sharply to the east. The Forsaken patrol crossed below, but he had learned that he could get fairly close without them noticing his presence- he was cold, and didn’t feel like a living body was nearby. He’d managed to approach one of the mass graves the day before, perhaps in some vain attempt to find her. There was no headstone for her grave, and if they had any sense, her body had been burned. He had gone, driven by the distant, foolish hope, that maybe he could find her body. Her ashes, if that’s what became of her.

He was flying again, aimlessly, and he spotted the courtyard of Lordaeron beneath him. A slight nod, and he willed the skeletal gryphon to dive. They landed a short distance from the moat, and he couldn’t see anyone near. The took the bag of bones from the gryphon’s saddle, and the beast flew to perch nearby, close enough to be ready if Thassarian needed a quick exit.

His footsteps echoed slightly in the chamber when he entered, and he lingered a moment near the doorway. The room was empty now, but once… He touched one of the curtains, now dusty, and walked toward the center of the room. He walked around the seal on the floor, glancing toward the throne. It had meant something, when he was alive. The Alliance no longer held this land; the ones who lived here now lived under the city, undead like he was. What was so different about him that he swore his allegiance to Stormwind and they to the Horde?

"This was your home, yes?"

The voice spoke in Thalassian, and he chuckled softly. He knew that voice. ”You know I only understand half of what you’re saying.”

Koltira shrugged softly, walking from the entrance from the courtyard, speaking in accented Common. ”I always tried to teach you, but perhaps my language is too complicated for humans.”

"I know how to say a few things." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Things unfit to say in polite company. Yes, I do remember teaching you curses." Koltira frowned. "You know you shouldn’t be here."

Thassarian shrugged, turning back to the throne for a moment, before looking back. ”Are you going to make me leave? The record doesn’t seem in your favor.”

"One day, we’ll even the score." He walked into the courtyard. "Go away, Thassarian."

"Very well, but only because you’ll call the guards, and that would hardly be a fair fight for any of you." He stepped outside, whistling, and the gryphon swooped down.

"I don’t need guards to beat you, Thassarian. I just don’t trust Lurid to be a fair referee." He waved a hand. "I’ll meet you at your camp later. Now," he tapped his chin, "shoo."

Thassarian chuckled, shaking his head softly before deftly climbing into the gryphon’s saddle, the bag of bones in one hand. ”I will see you there.”

Koltira arched a long eyebrow and shrugged, looking away, but there was a smirk on his face as Thassarian flew away. He looked about, thankful no one spotted them, and breathed a small sigh of relief.

—————————————-

"Gryphon." The skeleton looked over at his master, pointing. 

Thassarian bent over a map. ”He’s up on the ridge.”

"No, master. Different gryphon." Lurid shuffled over. "Stop reading. Look."

Thassarian sighed, frustrated. ”Yes, Lurid?” Looking in the direction of his minion’s hand, he nodded. ”I see.” The skeletal bird wheeled its way closer, and Thassarian nodded. ”Go up with my gryphon. Keep a lookout.”

"Yes, master." Had he any lips, the skeleton would have smiled. "No fighting?"

"Only if I tell you to. Now, up you go." The skeleton drooped a little, and Thassarian waved him away.

"Fairly obvious place for a camp." Koltira looked about as he dismounted, furrowing his brows a bit.

Thassarian shrugged. ”It does well enough. Only flyers can see here, and I haven’t seen a Horde patrol in two days.”

Koltira nodded, glancing up to the skeleton on the makeshift lookout “post”, and nodded. Lurid made an exaggerated salute, and Koltira glanced back to Thassarian. ”Yours seems smarter than most.”

Thassarian shrugged. ”I’d rather he kept his own mind. I could never want a mindless minion.” He didn’t need to elaborate, and Koltira just nodded, walking closer to the small tent.

"No fire. Hmm." He tilted his head softly. "But you have whiskey. I see your priorities are as set as ever."

"I don’t need the light now. But, as you’ve decided to visit, I definitely need the drink." He motioned to a plain blanket he’d spread on the ground. "You can sit."

"I’d rather not." Koltira folded his arms.

Thassarian shrugged, settling into place and taking a drink from the bottle. ”You’re not wearing your armor.”

"Neither are you." He stepped closer, standing over the human. "I have nothing to fear here."

"You don’t think I might be on orders from Wrynn to assassinate you?"

Koltira laughed just once, a derisive chuckle free of true mirth. ”You? An assassin?”

"It could happen." Thassarian shrugged.

"Highly doubtful." Koltira arched an eyebrow at him. "You have too much honor." Before the compliment sunk in, he quickly amended it. "That was always your weak point."

He smirked. ”Careful, Koltira. I might actually start thinking you like me.”

"I never meant to give you that illusion." And the elf smirked, waving away the offered bottle of whiskey. "It’s been a while."

"Months." Thassarian shrugged. "I make my patrols in the area from time to time. I hadn’t seen you before."

"I was heading to Silvermoon and noticed the gryphon. Either way, it was one of our knights. I thought I’d see what they were doing." Koltira looked away for a moment.

"Hmm." Thassarian looked out over the Plaguelands, the air hazy and amber. "I’m not exactly sure." He sighed. "It’s…different now."

Koltira nodded. ”It is. There are skirmishes but…”

"No war." His eyes dimmed slightly.

"What about your…sister? You said she was still alive."

"Do you visit your family?" Thassarian glanced at him, sidelong.

"I don’t chase graves." He gave Thassarian a pointed look. "Neither should you." He glanced over, sighing and shaking his head. "Do you even taste that?"

"It’s better that I don’t." Thassarian took another drink. It was nearly habit now- have a drink with a group of fresh recruits, and they forget somewhat that he was no longer alive, that he existed, for a time, only to kill.

"Can’t be bothered to pay good gold." Koltira shook his head. "How very typical."

Thassarian shrugged. ”I just do different things with my money.”

"Just so long as you’re not forcing yourself to live in misery."

"I think we have different definitions of that. Just because I don’t have a fancy home or sleep on feathers every night…"

Koltira let out a sigh. ”You poor bastard. Misery, indeed.” And he smirked at his friend.

Thassarian chuckled. ”I should punch you.”

"I doubt you’d be able to hit me if you tried. You’ve had too much to drink already and I’m very quick."

"Fair enough. Give me a few minutes."

Koltira shook his head. ”What else do you have around here?” He took a step away, poking his head into the tent and chuckling. ”You hardly have anything but shelter.”

"I don’t need to sleep. I don’t need to eat. Fire is for light." Thassarian stood. "Some of us are more practical than others."

Koltira shrugged. ”Dreadfully boring, you mean.”

"You’ve never complained before." Thassarian folded his arms across his chest, smiling.

"That’s because I’m fascinated by the mundane." Koltira looked back. "Luckily for you."

"Luckily for me, indeed. Whatever did I do to deserve such an honor?" He shook his head softly.

"You killed me. The least I could do is bother you for the rest of our undeath. That’s…" He paused for a moment, making a small face as he tried to find the word. "…payback."

"You’re doing a damn fine job so far." A laugh. "You’re a brat, Koltira."

"And you’re a barbarian." He retorted. "I fail to see how one is better than the other."

"Perhaps they aren’t." Thassarian smirked, and settled back into place.

"You know you shouldn’t be here." Koltira folded his arms across his chest and frowned down at Thassarian, who shrugged.

"Until they give me a better place to go, it’s all I have."

Koltira said nothing, but the silence didn’t loom between them. Finally, begrudgingly, he sat down next to Thassarian.

"You said you were headed back to Silvermoon?"

"Business, nothing more." There was a bite to his words that was different than usual- true sorrow in place of annoyance.

Thassarian nodded, taking another drink. He could barely taste it, but it was habit. It reminded him of how he was alive, once, and he glanced sidelong at Koltira, who had fallen into silence. He might say something, but he knew by now not to bother Koltira when he was in one of his black moods. He glanced up to the hill, where his gryphon and Lurid were. Some strange almost-life he had now. He couldn’t head back to Stormwind, and he couldn’t spend time in his birthplace. What did he have, then, but some hill in the Plaguelands?

So what did he do now?

Finally, he took another drink, and then glanced at Koltira. They had chosen their sides. Like it or not, they were meant to be enemies now, as much as they had been in Koltira’s life. Try as he might, he couldn’t muster any feeling of hatred for the elf next to him. They were brothers in arms, and would always be, to him. Koltira was the only friend he had- the only one he’d had during their days of service. They both understood the horrors they had seen, had done with their own hands. And now, he was supposed to be an enemy? He couldn’t manage the emotions he knew he should have, but something stirred in him. It was bitterness, and he knew he couldn’t keep flying over his old homeland forever.

"You won’t be seeing me anytime soon." 

"That’s most likely best for both of us." He didn’t elaborate, but there was a strange distance to his words. "Where are you going?"

"Back to Stormwind, I guess." He scratched at his beard for a few seconds. "If I can’t force myself to retire, I go back to the one thing I do know."

"Ah, yes, ever the good soldier." Koltira frowned.

Thassarian nodded, but didn’t say anything. Koltira’s words didn’t sting because he knew they were true- being in service to a crown was all he had known. Finally, he stood, and Koltira followed, dusting himself off and glancing away over the Plaguelands.

Thassarian hesitated for a moment, and settled for resting a hand on Koltira’s shoulder. ”Next time I see you, it had better be in one piece.”

Koltira frowned at his hand, and sighed. ”Perhaps you should pay more mind to your own welfare.”

He laughed, taking his hand off of Koltira and looked away. ”Maybe you’re right.”

"Of course I am." Koltira folded his arms across his chest and looked away. “I should go back before they start to question me, again.”

“Again?”

“Nothing for you to worry yourself over, Thassarian.” He glanced at him, and Thassarian nodded.

“You know if you-“

“Yes, that’s well and good.” Koltira interrupted.

Thassarian frowned, but nodded. He didn’t quite understand how much their friendship cost Koltira, and much as he wanted Koltira to tell him more, he had made peace with the fact that he never would. Koltira simply wasn’t the type to talk about things. He stepped by his only friend’s side, looking over the haze and infected forests. Acherus was close, he knew, but he couldn’t see the necropolis from where he was. Perhaps that was where they truly belonged, away from the living, but they had already made their decisions.

He glanced over, and Koltira frowned, not looking at him but seeing the movement from the corner of his eye.

A slight smile found its way onto Thassarian’s face. Were he still alive, he was certain he would have felt something more, but now the best emotion he could muster was a sense of…peace. It wasn’t true happiness- he wasn’t certain he could feel such a thing anymore. In its place was, for a time, a lack of the cold anger that usually stirred within him, a calming to the sorrow that punctuated everything. He was, he knew, more fortunate than some- he was able to cling to hope like some of his kind could not.

“Stop staring at me like that.”

He looked away, managing a chuckle, and Koltira smirked. “You think entirely too much for your own good, Thassarian.”

“And yet, not enough.”

“Mmm, indeed.”

Thassarian folded his arms across his chest, and let the half-smile settle on his features. There might be times that he would want for more- want to return to the life he had. But at the moment, he was content to simply be…content, in Koltira’s company.

Perhaps neither one of them wanted to leave. They stood in silence for a few minutes, not even punctuated by the effort of breathing to appear more alive. In his mind, where once had been a looming presence, was a void that he knew to be called “freedom”. And what freedom had he chosen? He had traded one king for another- Wrynn was more a stranger to him than Arthas had ever been. Koltira, too, had made his place among those he had never known.

“We could go.” His voice was quiet. “We don’t have to return. We’re free now, Koltira.”

Koltira was silent, and closed his eyes for a few seconds, before turning his head and meeting Thassarian’s eyes. “And what would we have?”

“Not much but each other.” He admitted.

Koltira’s face belied more than a hint of sorrow at the thought. “So it would be not much of a change.”

Thassarian nodded somberly.

Koltira fell into thought again. “Thassarian, you know as well as I that we have chosen our fates.”

Thassarian closed his eyes, defeated, and nodded. “It was a foolish thought.”

“I’ve heard worse.” Koltira shifted slightly, his shoulder making contact with Thassarian’s. It was a small gesture, but Thassarian found a small smile on his face at it. He leaned against Koltira a bit, and the elf didn’t move away.

It was nearly sunset over the hazy Plaguelands, but, for a moment, there was peace. For the first time since the battle for Light’s Hope, Thassarian truly understood what it meant to be free.


End file.
